Date: Fri, 8 Mar 2013 22:36:02 -0500
From: Paul Lantoro
Subject: Grinding on the Uptown 5
(Author's note: Lemme know if this one turned you on! I get off on hearing
that. Email above. And yeah, some of this story is true :)
Grinding on the Uptown 5
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"The time I like is the rush hour. 'Cause I like the rush. The pushing of
the people. I like it oh so much. Such a mass of motion. Do not know
where it goes. I move with the movement and.... I have the touch."
- Peter Gabriel
It's a late-October Friday, 9:15am in the office, and I just shot a fucking
HUGE load in the stall in the 8th floor men's room. I came within 60
seconds of unzipping my trousers and pulling out my already semi-hard,
precum-dripping dick. And I'm still kind of hard.
I usually hate rush hour, the subway push from Brooklyn up into Manhattan,
the crowds, the pressure, the claustrophobic pressing in against total
strangers. But this morning, oh man. This morning, and one of the hottest
guys I have ever seen on my daily subway commute, changed all that.
I'll describe this guy in a moment. I first see him on the platform at
Nevins Street, waiting for the 4/5 Uptown. But, to sketch out the scene
for you, here's me. 26, Italian/Jewish, 6'1 tall, built, very good
looking, gay but masculine. Dressed in shirt/tie, office-casual trousers,
brown leather shoes and a mid-length brown leather jacket. One time when
we were out and getting drunk, my friends said to me, "Adam, we decided you
are the perfect example of Big Dick Face." I laughed because it's true in
my case. They went on to describe my face: deep-set dark eyes, strong
cheekbones and jaw, thick wavy dark hair, Roman nose, full lips. "You see
that face and you know, you just KNOW he's got one." I bought the next
round. Flattery. It works on me every time.
So I get on the Uptown 2 Express at Grand Army Plaza, my neighborhood stop,
and it's already jam-packed at 8:11am. I don't carry a work-bag, don't
need it, I like to move fast on/off the crowded trains and not be weighed
down. I keep gym stuff and snacks, etc, in drawers at the office.
A few stops later, if you want to transfer to the 4/5 line, everybody knows
Nevins Street is the best stop for the switch; the trains crawl up to
adjacent sides of the same one platform and you just step off one train and
onto another. And that's what I do most days.
So I get off at Nevins. And I'm walking up and down the long crowded
platform, seeing if there's a break in the crowd and maybe I can wedge
myself onto the next train. Excuse me. 'Scuse me. 'Scuse me. I keep
muttering as I move through people trying to get a better spot in the rush.
No 2/3 train is coming but the LED display tells us one is coming in 2
minutes.
A little more than halfway down the platform, I pass this hot looking guy.
He's a bit older, maybe 30-32, and has this hyped-up butch look that I
can't tell if he's US military or just gay. You know what I mean?
Immaculate crew cut, square jaw, perfect skin, fit buff body. Here in NYC,
this means 90% chance he's gay. So yeah, he is dressed casual in a navy
blue polo shirt that squeezes over his strong shoulders, pecs and biceps.
And tan khakis that can barely contain his meaty thighs and big round melon
butt. I'm a top. So, yeah, I see that awesome ass and I slow down, it's
like I'm spellbound: Want. Crave. Need to have. I glance at him as I pass
by very slow. He looks up from his magazine and glances at me, crowds of
people all around us, his eyes lock with mine for an instant. The eyes are
a handsome light blue. Ok: he swings my way. Yeah!! I'm psyched, inside.
I try to stay cool. I keep walking.
Of course I turn around, five seconds later. He's holding the magazine up
near his face but he's been watching me the whole time. I circle back past
him, our eyes lock again. I make a hint of a smile on my face as I look at
him, he instinctively half-smiles back at me. All this is subtle; the rest
of the crowd doesn't see a thing.
I wait down a bit further, keep glancing over at him. He's looking the
other way mostly, but he stands now at a slight tilt, and that muscle-ass
of his is looking incredible, outlined fully in his pants. I bet he can
squat 350 lbs. Easily. And then he turns his handsome head again to look
back at me.
The train is arriving. The crowd lumbers in a mass movement toward the
track. I move swiftly back to Stud's area, and am in the crowd behind him,
just two people behind him. He's glancing back down the platform to where
I used to be, he doesn't see that I'm behind him. As the train pulls up,
we all push forward. And now I get really psyched and turned on, because I
know how to wedge into and right through a crowd. And if I want to be
pressed right up behind this hot guy and his beautiful ass and broad
shoulders and perfect crew cut, then that's where I'm gonna be. He's about
to be mine.
Stud doesn't know it quite yet, as we all push onto the train. But I only
need two opportunities and I take them fast. Ice-coffee-sipping straight
chick, 'scuse me, sorry but I am plowing past you, yeah, a little rude
about it. Sorry. Thanks. Now there's just one person in between me and Stud
- a short, well-coiffed middle-aged black woman in a bright red pantsuit
and blazer. The train really is crammed beyond capacity, more and more
people are trying to press onto it, shoving rudely into one another. I
press into well-coiffed black woman and murmur an apology as she ends up
pressed up against the back of Stud. He glances behind and sees her - and
sees me. For a split second his cool facade drops, his blue eyes register
sudden surprise. Our eyes lock again for an instant. I I smirk and look
away. The train doors close and the Uptown 5 rumbles forward.
Stud glances back at me a couple of times. My eyes are sort of on him,
sort of absently looking ahead. Trying not to get a boner too soon, I do
have a big dick and if it gets hard it's very obvious - and I do not want
to be on the receiving end of a slap from well-coiffed black woman. But
ohh yeah, I'm looking at this hot handsome man with his thick tanned arms
and I'm thinking, dude, I am going to HUMP YOUR ASS GOOD on this train
ride. Get ready, because I am. I unzip my leather jacket and empty my
front pants pockets. I want nothing in the way. Body to body.
"Now entering.... Borough Hall." The train slides into the next station.
Doors open. It's so packed that even though some people realize that this
is their stop, they can't even move to begin to get out. A few passengers
rise from their seats. Lucky me: one of them is right beneath/next to me
and the well-coiffed black woman. I make space as the grunting passenger
squeezes out past me, and I motion to the woman: "seat?" Didn't need to,
she already swooped down into that seat in 0.2 seconds. Damn right, she's
a native New Yorker.
I am too. I make my move in the next 0.2 seconds, and the space between me
and Stud is closed up tight, with me right behind him. A flood of new
passengers shoving and pushing onto the train. They surge and press and
shove against me from behind. Sorry, man, nothing personal but now I have
to press my whole body right up alongside yours. Blame all these people
behind me. Good thing my midlength leather jacket, open/unzipped, prevents
other passengers from seeing my crotch, or seeing just how tightly my lower
torso is pressed against his. Because it's kind of indecent and my dick is
already starting to swell, nudged up into the cleft of his pants. Feels so
fucking good. Train doors close shut. We begin to move. And I'm where I
wanna be. Burrowed deep against this beautiful man and his big strong sexy
ass. Home sweet home for the next 15 minutes.
My man here, he's as excited about this situation as I am. He starts
gently pressing his ass back into my boner,
press.. press.. press.. press.. press.., in time with the rolling rhythm of
the moving train. Again this is such a fucking packed train, nobody can
even turn around or look down at what's going on. We all really are like
sardines in a can.
So yeah, one minute of this and I am fucking ROCK HARD. I wonder if he is.
He's holding his magazine carefully down in that area so I take that as a
big Yes. His body is square in front of mine, my hips are tight pressed on
his, fit perfect like gloves on hands. He keeps pressing, even grinding a
little with that amazing ass, and my dick is so fucking hard and I'm
getting so turned on I can't believe it. I find myself looking at the
contours of his handsome face, just inches from mine. The tanned/rosy red
little curves of his outer earlobe. The clean-shaven hint of stubble on
his jawline. The soft nape of his neck. A teeny-tiny brown mole on his
perfectly tan strong smooth neck. All this time his butt is going
grind.. grind.. grind.. grind against my hard cock, and I'm giving it right
back to him hard, firm, steady: grind.. grind.. grind.. grind.. I glance
around, everybody else is hating the claustrophobia, the jam packed subway
car, they're just trying to deal with it, tune it out, get through it. Not
me. And not my man here. Everybody else will win, it'll be over, but not
the two of us: we want it to last and last.
It really did last 15 to 20 minutes. We were pretty much fucking, I mean
fucking, with our clothes on. It was so goddamn good. This hot man right
in front of me, grinding on my dick, me grinding on his ass, on and on and
on and on and on. The heat between us grew and grew, and I felt beads of
sweat begin to form on my brow. The same little beads of warm fresh sweat
that began to trickle down from his crewcut-trimmed sideburns. I felt like
we were alone naked somewhere else in a sauna, just this man and me, and at
the same time right here, fully clothed on a max-capacity subway train. I
fucking loved it.
At one point as we were grinding, he lifted his muscular arm up to hold the
railing, and the arm was inches from my face. Grind.. grind.. grind.. I
have never in my life wanted to throw a man down and just fuck the fucking
FUCK outta him, as I did then. My eyes traced the light brown hair on his
strong forearm. I breathed onto his arm softly, intently.
Grind.. grind.. grind.. my hard dick right at home there in the cleft of
his butt. I breathed more fully onto his forearm. My man, he liked that a
lot; he glanced back at me for the first time and then looked straight
ahead, his warm full ass pressed even more completely against my big dick,
both of us straining the fabric of our clothes. And he inhaled and exhaled
deeply. I did too, breathing out deeply onto the trickle of light fur
along his meaty forearm as it stretched diagonal up toward the railing,
resting in front of my face.
"Now entering... Wall Street." Some passengers started to exit, a few more
got on. There was a little bit more space, but the train was still
jam-packed enough that we could get away with the clothes-on sex that we
were having. I was still insanely turned on, feeling the heat of him right
in front of me, my body pressed onto and into his from behind. I figured
it would only be a few stops more, before this thing ends. Fuck! I don't
want it to end!
I just kept on humping and humping into his butt, and the train ambled on
again toward Brooklyn Bridge. Grind.. grind.. grind. Hump.. hump.. hump.
Good God, he felt so fucking good. I was starting to feel crazy with
longing, like I would pay $1000 for all this crowd to go away and just have
this hot beautiful man in my bed, or his, whatever, and I could fuck him
all morning long instead of going to work. Want. Crave. Need. I could feel
how much he was in the same state. His folded-over magazine stayed fixed
in front of his pants, made me want to see his erection as he kept it
hidden from the crowd standing shoulder-to-shoulder all around us.
"Now entering.. Brooklyn Bridge." Passengers pushed and shoved to get off
the train. New passengers moved and shoved to get on. I stayed right
there on my man, hips on hips, cock against butt. And he stayed right
where I wanted him to. Another little bead of sweat trickled down the side
of his face, resting on his beautiful muscular neck. I wanted to lick it,
taste it. The train doors slid shut again. The next stretch was a longer
ride, 4 or 5 full minutes, express up to 14th Street. The train rolled
forward, moving faster, rocking a little more vigorously from side to side
as it barreled forward. I humped my man in time with the train as it
rocked. I wanted to talk dirty into his ear, just a few inches in front of
my lips. I wanted to grab his belt, unbuckle it and whip it off, pull the
tight khakis down and pull down whatever underwear he was wearing, and I
wanted to throw him face down onto my bed (or his), and just bury my
fucking face and tongue in that beautiful round ass. Licking, tasting,
growling softly, making that big strong ass of his feel warm and wet and
incredibly good and ready for an all-out fuck. Not coming up for air until
I absolutely had to. Rimming that hot beautiful hole of his. Just losing
myself in that perfect man ass. The fantasy was so intense, almost real.
Grind.. grind.. grind.. hump.. hump.. hump.. The crowd, all this time,
shoulder to sholder, having no freaking clue what we were doing. He
inhaled and exhaled deep again. Me too. I glanced ahead to keep from
losing control, I felt like I could actually cum right there in my pants. I
was still so fucking hard, grinding my dick up against his butt. Clock;
look at the clock, the LED display on the subway. Steady. Don't cum. Look
ahead. Clock. It now read 8:38.
My guy dropped his arm from the overhead railing, switched his magazine to
that arm, reached into opposite front pocket with free arm.
Grind.. grind.. hump.. hump. He took out his iPhone and fiddled with it
for a few seconds. Then brought it back to his pocket.
Grind.. grind.. hump.. hump. Still feeling so good, so warm, horned up
beyond belief.
And then I felt a nudge of something against my hand. It was his hand,
passing me his iPhone. I took it and lifted it to see. It was open to
Contacts, he'd set up a new entry called "You". Oh fuck yeah!! I
hurriedly entered my cell #, looked at it carefully to be sure I got it
right, pressed "Done." Almost sent it back to him, but then took it again
and in the last name field, below "You", I entered "my name is Adam" .
Slid the phone back to him, hand to hand. Again I glanced around at all
these strangers, shoved in so tightly all around us. Still no sign that
anybody else knew what we were doing.
The train stopped at 14th Street. My man slid forward away from me and
moved to the door, pushing his way out along with at least 20 other
passengers. He glanced behind to me one last time, just a second, then he
was gone. I saw his strong thick legs zip past the train window in an
instant. And that was it. But he had my number.
I hastily reached down and zipped up the lower part of my leather jacket.
Yeah, my huge erection was obvious.
Across from me, a young woman arose from her seat. The iced-coffee-sipping
chick from the very beginning of the ride. Ages ago. She passed by me,
glanced upward at me from her designer glasses, and murmured "Impressive."
Then she continued on toward the other end of the subway car, stopping at
its door, positioning herself well for the Big Mass Exit that happens at
Grand Central. I stood there wondering, did she mean Impressive about all
the humping? or about the man-to-man cell phone handoff? or about my
unusually huge erection? I thought the leather jacket was covering our
activity and my body response to it. "Impressive." Ha, I'll never know.
So yeah, I got to the office and was like a crack fiend, I don't think I
have ever needed to shoot off a load so badly. Now I'm settling in back at
my desk. And glancing down at my cell phone every 30 seconds. Text me, my
man. Please. Get in touch. You just turned me into a sex crazed animal
and I need to fuck you, and I mean fuck you for real. Soon. Like tonight.
Tomorrow night's looking pretty good too. Hell, anytime, I'd cancel any
plans. Damn, looking down again: still nothing. Man, I can still feel
that warm big round strong ass, still see your broad shoulders and handsome
face and the light brown fur on your golden-tan forearm. Come on, you.
TEXT ME!